This was the first piece of poetry I wrote when I started to get the flashbacks and memory recalls, it was not the first time I was abused, that distinction was won by both my parents. But for some reason the very nature of this abuse, the humiliation, the degradation over shadowed me, haunted me for many years.
It was at a scout camp, we were locked down in our tents because of a storm when I was abused. I can still smell the canvas, the dampness, the stale air, his breath, feel his beard.
Even to this day, rainy days are difficult for me.